


all the knots we've tied have come undone

by blackkat



Series: Weird Westerns [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 06:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20148859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “I hope you’re actually planning on playing tonight,” Tobirama says, as dry as the land outside. “Rather than mooning, which is what you’ve actually been doing.”





	all the knots we've tied have come undone

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Spagetti Western starring Spagetti man Kakuzu who struck it big with a gold mine, and saloon pianist/singer Hashirama who has no idea Kakuzu is rich because every time he sees Kakuzu he's the cheapest-dressed person in the saloon. But he still has a crush on the ratty prospector. Much to Saloon Owner Tobirama's eternal chagrin

“I hope you’re actually planning on playing tonight,” Tobirama says, as dry as the land outside. “Rather than mooning, which is what you’ve actually been doing.”

Hashirama makes a face at his little brother, though he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the saloon’s bar. “You know I’m grateful for the upright,” he starts.

Tobirama waves him off, a short, sharp gesture that anyone else might take for deep irritation. It makes Hashirama smile, though, because that’s Tobirama telling him not to be foolish and worry himself over something. 

“I bought it for the establishment,” Tobirama says brusquely. “If you didn’t play, I would find someone else.” Pauses, casting Hashirama a look, and admits grudgingly, “Though there’s every likelihood they would be less talented.”

Hashirama laughs, leaning over to press a kiss to Tobirama’s cheek just as the swinging doors creak. “You’re sweet,” he tells Tobirama, largely to see the utter horror that flashes over his face at the accusation. 

“I am _no such thing_,” Tobirama protests, shoving him away. Hashirama lets him, still laughing, and takes a step back, raising his hands. 

“Is that what Kagami thinks?” he teases, and the pissy look Tobirama levels at him could bore a hole in solid stone. 

_“Go,”_ he says sharply, and Hashirama blows him another kiss and saunters over to the pretty new upright that came in on the last train. It’s nothing like the grand pianos Hashirama played on before they came west, but he likes it far more. Being a piano player in a small saloon, far from anywhere, feels so much freer than life as a concert pianist, forever under their father’s thumb. 

Smiling to himself, he casts a glance across the half-full room, and the sight of his favorite of Tobirama’s customers just settling in makes something flutter in his chest, bright and sweet. He can’t catch the prospector’s eye, but that’s fine. He’s handsome, and he’s _here,_ and Hashirama has paid enough attention over the last few months to know what songs he favors. 

Starting up a bright, sweet tune, he closes his eyes and lets his fingers find the keys without faltering. It’s a beautiful day.

  
It’s a _terrible_ day, Kakuzu thinks sourly, glaring across the room at the man behind the bar. Tall, stately, with cold features and a mean smirk, and no morals to speak of. Normally Kakuzu wouldn’t be one to judge there, but—

But Tobirama Senju, owner of the Pale Horse, is a cheating bastard, and Kakuzu wants him to _burn_ for it. He has a man like Hashirama, sweet and cheerful regardless of the hardships in a frontier town, and he’s _squandering_ that. Kakuzu saw that shove, the rejected kiss. He’s seen Tobirama and his bit on the side, too, the town’s journalist who Kakuzu had _thought_ was too sensible to get caught up in an affair. Apparently not, though. 

Kakuzu scowls into his whiskey, refusing to be charmed by Hashirama’s skill on the piano. It’s impressive, and the man always manages to play just the type of music Kakuzu likes, but it’s also maddening, because Kakuzu looks at Hashirama and _wants._ Wants with a greedy covetousness that he’d thought he had a handle on, but the desire for gold is nothing on his desire for one handsome piano player. A _taken_ piano player. 

Downing his shot, Kakuzu pours another, and also refuses to be grateful that Tobirama doesn’t water down his stock, even if all the other bartenders Kakuzu has met out here do. 

“Your food,” a smooth voice says, and Kakuzu watches as a red-marked hand slides his plate onto the table. The food is fine, but Kakuzu just grunts, not willing to give Tobirama any more thanks than that. Remembers, bitterly, the fiancé he had before he was run out of Taki, and tries not to think about how no one has caught his eye since except for Hashirama. 

Tobirama hasn’t learned to be grateful for things yet. Kakuzu hopes, with a vindictive sort of fervor, that the lesson hits him hard. 

There’s still a shadow over him, though, and when Kakuzu casts a narrow glance up, it’s to see Tobirama pausing, like he’s weighing what to say.

Expression darkening, Kakuzu downs another shot, swallows against the burn, and snaps, “What? My tab is paid.”

Entirely unimpressed, Tobirama raises a brow. “I’m well aware. You have a fondness for music?”

Kakuzu has a bitter suspicion that he knows precisely what this is about. He’s subtle, when he wants to be, but—grudgingly—he’ll admit that Tobirama is clever. Of course he’s noticed Kakuzu’s attention on his husband. 

“Get out of my face,” he says sharply, and pours another shot. It’s feeling like one of those days. “And as long as you’re a cheating bastard, you can’t throw any stones at me for enjoying the view.”

Tobirama blinks. Blinks again, frowning, and opens his mouth—

And then stops dead, realization flickering through his eyes. For a second his expression goes perfectly blank, and then—

That’s amusement, Kakuzu thinks, narrowing his eyes. The shithead is _amused_ that Kakuzu is calling him out on his affair. 

“Very well,” is all Tobirama says, and it’s gracious enough to make Kakuzu shoot him a dirty look. “Enjoy your meal.” Then, precise, he turns on his heel and heads back to the bar, collecting a handful of empty glasses as he goes. 

Hell, but Kakuzu _hates_ him. He seethes, sinking lower in his chair, and tries to think of how to make him suffer. Kakuzu’s claim is up in the mountains, and he doesn’t make it to town often, but he’s been around enough to know that Tobirama Senju is a reticent bastard, aloof and seemingly unconcerned with anything that isn’t his saloon. Kakuzu’s been hoarding all the gold he’s found so far; there’s more than enough of it to buy the Pale Horse ten times over, and just for a moment Kakuzu lets himself indulge in visions of claiming the place, running Tobirama out of town in the dead of night, and then hanging around to comfort Hashirama, abandoned by his cheating asshole of a husband and left alone in a rough town—

A break in the music is enough to make Kakuzu look up, already frowning, to find Hashirama rising from his place at the piano. Tobirama is beckoning to him, and the crowd has almost doubled while Kakuzu was brooding, ranch hands looking for a meal and a drink. Hashirama goes to help with a smile, unperturbed, and Kakuzu nurses his drink and watches him move through the crowd, greeting people and collecting empty glasses. When he reaches Tobirama, Tobirama gives him a small smile, which makes Hashirama brighten, and he leans forward. Tobirama rolls his eyes, still smiling, and curls a hand around Hashirama’s cheek, over his long dark hair. The touch makes Hashirama beam, and when he ducks down to hug the smaller man Tobirama takes it with a sigh and a pat on the back.

Kakuzu rejects the idea of running Tobirama out of town. It would be far more satisfying to drop him down a mineshaft, anyway. 

The little touches keep happening, too. Tobirama’s usually so reserved it makes Kakuzu look warm and friendly, but as Kakuzu glares holes in him at every opportunity and the evening crowd thins down to the regulars, he _keeps touching._ Nothing strange, just moments of his hand on Hashirama’s shoulder, a tug on Hashirama’s hair, a lean into his space when they’re close. It could be perfectly innocent, but every so often—

Every so often he looks over at Kakuzu, a flicker of smugness and amusement in his eyes. Kakuzu’s being _taunted,_ and he’s about to march across the room and break Tobirama’s face on his own bar. 

Except, of course, that Hashirama looks overjoyed with the affection. He keeps grinning at Tobirama, leaning into him in return, putting an arm around him, _ruffling his hair._

At this point, Kakuzu is going to have to pour himself onto his horse, he’s gone through so many shots. 

He’s glaring balefully at the half-empty bottle when a shadow falls over him, and he glances up, ready to throw his drink in Tobirama’s face and then light him on fire, only to find it’s someone else entirely. Hashirama is hovering at his elbow, watching him with dark eyes and a smile, and he reaches out, touching Kakuzu’s shoulder. 

“All right there?” he asks, amused. “Did you want a room for the night?”

_Only if you’re in it_, Kakuzu thinks, but even on his way to drunk he has enough self-control not to actually say that. It sounds like a decent solution, though, especially when the thought of riding all the way back up the mountain makes Kakuzu’s whole body protest. Spending that much irks at him, but the prices here are decent, and Kakuzu has the funds. He just hates using them.

“Yeah,” he says gruffly, and pulls himself up. “Probably a good idea.”

Instantly, without hesitation, Hashirama’s hand is around his elbow, steadying him on his feet. Kakuzu doesn’t need it, but he takes the assistance anyway, more for the heat of Hashirama’s body so close to his. Hashirama is tall and broad and handsome, smiling gently, and Kakuzu wants to press him up against the wall and _ruin him._

“The first room on the second floor is open,” Hashirama tells him, and guides him to the stairs with a deftness that says he’s done this a lot. “I’ll make sure Tobirama brings you breakfast, too. On the house.” He grins at Kakuzu like they’re sharing a secret, and—

“He’s sleeping with that journalist,” Kakuzu says, because he’s maybe not quite as in control of his tongue as he would like. “Kagami. They’re hiding it from you.” Then he realizes, and—well. He doesn’t quite regret it, because he’s a bastard himself, but he braces for the denial, the anger, the tears—

Hashirama blinks. Pauses, halfway up the stairs, and then _laughs._

“They’re _trying_ to hide it,” he corrects, voice full of mirth. “But I raised Tobirama, and if my little brother thinks he can keep something like that from me, he’s too caught up in Kagami’s pretty face to think of anything else. I’m sure he’ll come clean soon.”

Kakuzu stares at him, wondering distantly if the ringing in his ears is from the whiskey or the sudden, abrupt realization. It feels a little like being hit over the head. Hit over the head with a _word,_ and Kakuzu swallows, breathes in. “Brother,” he croaks. “He’s not—he isn’t your husband.”

Hashirama chuckles, tugging Kakuzu on, and like a fool Kakuzu follows. “Of course not,” he says blithely, like he hasn’t just turned Kakuzu’s world on its head. “I thought the names gave it away—”

Kakuzu shoves him up against the wall and kisses him, desperation and desire too strong to resist. Gets his hands in that thick hair, on warm skin, feels the hitch of a gasped breath half an instant before Hashirama kisses him back, and even if he feels like a fool, he can admit when it works out for the best. 

This, he thinks as Hashirama tugs him in and kisses him harder, is probably one of those cases. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [all the knots we've tied have come undone [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20413657) by [viceandvirtue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceandvirtue/pseuds/viceandvirtue)


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